Everything in Disarray
by astridfire
Summary: ON HIATUS. Sequel to In the Wee Hours of the Morning. The trio returns from the horcrux hunt and relationships progress. HBP compliant. GeorgeHermione.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Everything in Disarray

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything but my aging laptop. I'm just having a little fun here.

**Summary:** This story is a sequel to In the Wee Hours of the Morning. I suggest you read that first. This fic begins when the Trio return from the horcrux hunt. It may have a plot…. I'm still working that out. But there will be fluff, and romance, and drama, and some smutty-ness, and that pesky war in the background. I think it will be enjoyable, in any case, but it is a sequel, and I'm not holding out any hopes that it will be better than _In the Wee Hours_. That's just the nature of sequels. :)

**A/N:** I had a hell of a time figuring out a title for this story. I'm usually pretty good at that sort of thing, but this one was tricky. I finally settled on _Everything in Disarray_, which refers to the world outside of George and Hermione. Namely, the war. So, our couple is the calm in chaos. I'll probably attempt to skim over the particulars of the war (as I know HP&tDH will probably make this story very AU no matter what I do) but the war will be there, and I'll have to deal with it eventually.

This is for Nayala, who asked ever so nicely, and I couldn't resist in any case. I love writing Hermione. Enjoy!

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Hermione fell to the ground in relief. She wanted to just collapse here. Here where the grass was cool and green, and here where she was finally _safe_. The Burrow, looking cheerful and homey as ever, was a mere twenty yards ahead, but walking any further was not appealing. She was streaked with dust, could feel it caked on her skin and melting away in long sweaty rivulets. She felt disgusting.

Ron and Harry apparated next to her in two loud pops. She smiled weakly up at them, and Harry grinned back. "Up you get, Hermione," he said, pulling on her hand.

Ron's eyes were fixed on the Burrow, looking both glad to see it and anxious. "Mum's going to kill me," he murmured.

"We'll protect you, mate," Harry said, and clasped Ron's shoulder bracingly, but he looked nervous too.

Hermione smiled. It had been three long months since they had seen the Burrow. Ninety-four days of searching out horcruxes and destroying them. It was a miracle that they hadn't died in the attempt. There was still one left, but as that last one was Nagini, they'd have to wait until Harry was prepared to face Voldemort for the (hopefully) final time. They had been out of contact with everyone for those months, and knew that they had some serious explaining to do. Mrs. Weasley would not be happy with any of them, though Hermione hoped that she would feed them before she began to scold and rant. It had been at least twenty-four hours since they had eaten last. The sixth horcrux had been destroyed only hours before, and they had all agreed that it was now time to go home.

Home. The Burrow. Home cooked meals. Warm beds. Hot showers. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Ginny.

George.

She bit her lip. Gods, but she had missed George. She had dreamed of him nearly every night since they'd left. Some she didn't remember, but woke feeling refreshed and happy, and others were as startlingly clear as that night had been, and some remarkably naughtier than that night. In reality, she had no idea where she stood with George. It had, after all, been only one night, and it wasn't as if they'd made any promises to each other. He could have moved on just as easily as she could have.

But she hadn't. After several tense silence filled days, she and Ron had had it out on the front lawn of Hogwarts while Harry had gone in to talk to Dumbledore's portrait. Ron had screamed and kicked at rocks, and said horrible things to her, and she had shot right back at him. The yelling had gone on for a half an hour, and they'd finally looked up to see Harry watching them silently from the front steps. He was smiling and shaking his head, and gestured for them to continue, but he had broken the tension and Ron had laughed and said, "We're better off as friends, aren't we?"

She had been surprised, and a little sad, but she had nodded and pulled him into a fierce hug. And that was that.

Hermione was pulled back to the present at the sound of the Burrow's kitchen door slamming against the brickwork, and Mrs. Weasley screeching, "Where have you three been!?" and then Ginny was pushing past her mother, running full tilt towards them calling, "Harry! Ron! Hermione! I was so worried!" She hurled herself into Harry's arms, and he whirled her around, kissing her madly. Hermione giggled and felt tears prick at her eyes. Harry had missed Ginny so much. Ron rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too.

"Come on," he said to her, "Let's get this over with." In a louder voice he called, "Oi! Mum! What's for dinner?"

"What's for dinner!? You must be _joking_ Ronald Weasley!" and then Molly was off, ranting about how worried everyone had been, and what on earth had they all been thinking, and couldn't they have at least written, and on and on. Ron took in her words with a weird sort of half smile on his face, and then suddenly kissed her cheek and said, "I missed you, Mum."

Molly softened immediately, and patted his cheek. "Don't think you're going to get out of it that easily, young man. Now, all of you get in here. You look absolutely frightful. I've got soup on, and you must be starving."

The hour that followed was a lovely blur of hot soup and warm bread, and Ron attempting to field his mother's questions. Mrs. Weasley made several floo calls, organizing an emergency Order meeting for later that night, when they would finally tell everyone what they'd been up to. Hermione believed the story would go, "We had to do something. It's for the war. Dumbledore told us not to say anything. Sorry." She doubted it would go over well.

Molly ordered them to shower before the meeting, and put Hermione up in Fred and George's old room ("Ginny's trundle is broken, I have no idea how that happened…" to which Ginny and Harry blushed and looked away). Hermione collapsed on the bed nearest the door. She was oh-so tired. She resolved to just shut her eyes for a moment, and then she'd get up to shower. Just for a moment…

"Hermione…" his voice was coming from very far away. She frowned in her sleep, and heard him chuckle. Her eyes opened to find him sitting next to her on the bed.

"George?" she asked sleepily, "Am I dreaming again?"

"Again?"

She pushed herself up slightly, feeling very disoriented. Oh, that was right. They'd finally come home. And George was really here. She smiled at him.

"Look at you," he said with a smirk. He ran his finger lightly down her cheek and showed her the dirt there. "You're filthy." He smiled at her like he'd never seen anything so lovely.

"Oh no, I was supposed to shower. What time is it?"

"Nearly five. You've got plenty of time, the meeting isn't till eight."

"Good," she sighed, and laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Sleep still clouded her brain, and her body wasn't entirely receptive to the thought of waking yet. She felt George shift to lie next to her. His hand cupped her cheek, stroking softly with his thumb. She leaned into his touch and sighed, "I've missed you," and immediately felt embarrassed.

"Me too," he said, and she opened her eyes only to slide them shut again when his lips brushed against hers.

She giggled when he planted kisses on each corner of her mouth, and said, "I'm covered in dirt." It was a very weak protest, but she had hoped to be clean and looking slightly pretty when she saw him again.

"Don't care," he said, kissing her cheeks, eyelids, nose, "There's a lovely girl in my bed, and I won't let such a golden opportunity go to waste."

Well, if he wasn't repulsed, she certainly wasn't going to worry about it. His tongue sought out hers, and she moaned. This was better than she remembered. How could it _possibly_ be better? His arm wrapped tight around her waist and pulled her flush against him. She loved how he felt: the hard planes of his chest and his deliciously well-muscled arms holding her close… yes, she definitely had a thing for Quidditch players. Really, really good ones. She moaned again and threw her leg over his, arching against him like a contented cat. He made an appreciative noise, and moved his leg upwards until it was pressed hard against her center. Dear Merlin, he's amazing. And then he pulled back, frowning a bit, and she wondered if she would have to rethink that statement.

"Don't you think we should… I don't know… talk?"

She buried her face in his shoulder and suppressed a groan. "George?"

"Yes?"

"Have I done something to upset you?"

He sounded very confused, "No…"

"Have I hurt you in some way?"

"No."

"Then why," she said, half-glaring and shoving him lightly, "are you torturing me?"

He laughed, and joked, "What? I thought girls liked to talk."

"There's a time and a place for such things, and you missed it," she pulled his head roughly to hers and he laughed against her lips.

A knock sounded at the door, "Hermione?" came Ginny's tentative voice, "Are you awake yet?"

The girl in question groaned and rolled away from the boy who had stopped kissing her once again. He called out, "Go away, Ginny! She's busy."

There was a surprised silence, and then, "George, what are you doing in there?"

Hermione, face burning in embarrassment, flew off the bed and opened the door. Ginny was wearing a knowing grin, and her eyes sparkled with the promise of a dishy conversation in the future. "I'm just—" Hermione stammered, "I'm going to take a shower."

She pushed past Ginny to race up the stairs, "Better make it a cold one, Mione." Hermione shot her a look and locked the bathroom door behind her, but not before she heard Ginny say, "Well, well, well, brother mine. What's going on here?"

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A/N: If you're wondering why Hermione has suddenly become a little minx, I'll just say this: There comes a time in every girl's life where she just plain stops being shy about what she wants, and Hermione has reached the breaking point. And I don't think it's entirely out of character for her… I mean, at fourteen she was making out with an eighteen year old Hungarian Quidditch star, and in HBP she was letting Cormac McLaggen snog the heck out of her because she wasn't getting any from Ron, and she didn't even _like_ Cormac. So yeah, I think Hermione wanting a little action with George is an improvement. :)

Also, the entire time I was writing the kissing and whatnot, I was thinking, "But you're disgusting! Go take a shower!" but George wouldn't allow it, and I can't deny George anything. So yeah, sorry if that grossed you out too.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm just having some fun here. Chill out, yo. ;)

A/N: They'll get it on eventually. Enjoy the ride.

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At 7:56pm they flooed to Grimmauld Place one by one, until only Hermione and George were left in the kitchen of the Burrow. She took a handful of floo powder from the jar on the mantle, but before she could throw it into the fire he pulled her back, his hands gripped her hips, and tugged until she rested against him. She sighed and shut her eyes. _No, Hermione_, she said to herself, _you cannot stay here and snog George. You have to go to the meeting. You're going to be—_

"You're squeaky clean," he whispered into her ear.

Hermione shivered, "Mmm hmm."

He kissed the spot where her shoulder began to curve into her neck, "We'll do something about that later."

"God, I hope so," she murmured. She pulled away, and grinned back at him as she shouted, "Grimmauld Place!" into the green flames.

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was quite a different scene than the one she left. It seemed that every last member of the Order was crowded into the candle lit space. Hermione didn't recognize many of them. It seemed that the Order had been doing some recruiting. But there were some familiar faces: Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and a good majority of the students who had been in Harry's DA class. She smiled and waved at Neville and Luna, and made her way over to Harry and Ron who were being scolded by Professor McGonagall while Professor Lupin stood by shaking his head.

"I don't know what you three were thinking," she said, "And I really expected better of you, Miss Granger."

"It was what Professor Dumbledore wanted me to do," Harry said, not sounding the least bit sorry, "It had to be done this way."

"We shall see, Mr. Potter," she said shortly, and left them to call the meeting to order.

Harry nodded sharply, and Hermione bit her lip. It still wasn't safe to mention anything about the horcruxes, but Harry said he had a story that would appease the members of the Order. They wouldn't be able to tell anyone the absolute truth until Nagini was destroyed. They couldn't run the risk of Voldemort finding out and making more horcruxes. She wished that Dumbledore was still alive. He could have made the Order believe that their actions were for the best. She doubted anything Harry could say would make the Order leave the matter alone. Her anxiety must have been showing, because Harry caught her hand and squeezed.

"It'll be okay."

"I hope so."

The three of them found seats together at the long table. Professor McGonagall stood at the head and everyone fell silent. "As you all are aware, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger have returned home. I have requested that they come to this meeting to tell us the nature of their absence. Mr. Potter, if you would."

Harry stood and cleared his throat. He was so tall, Hermione thought. What had happened to her scrawny friend? There had been a time when she had been taller, but no longer. And when had he started to radiate the sort of power that Dumbledore had? It would have been frightening, but it was still Harry.

"As you all know, Ron, Hermione and myself have been gone for three months. I know that we worried you, and we're very sorry, but we had to go. Last year, Professor Dumbledore was giving me private lessons, and at that time he guided me to a certain task. The mission is of extreme importance to ending the war, and destroying Voldemort once and for all. Before he died, Dumbledore instructed me not to tell _anyone_, except for Ron and Hermione, what this mission involves." Harry looked at the tabletop and crossed his arms, "I've spoken to Dumbledore's portrait at Hogwarts since then, and he asked me to keep this information a secret until the time comes when it is safe for me to tell you."

At that, a maelstrom of indignant voices rang through the room.

"Mr. Potter!"

"Harry, please—"

"Boy, you have got to tell us what's going on!"

"Look!" Harry shouted, "I know you're all upset, but I won't take the risk."

"What risk, Harry?" asked Professor Lupin.

"I won't be betrayed."

A chill settled on the group.

"My parents were betrayed by someone they trusted, and it cost them their lives. Now, I'm definitely not accusing anyone, but I won't endanger our cause just to satisfy your curiosity. This is too important."

"Harry…"

"No. And it's no use trying to reason with me. Hermione, Ron, and I have made an Unbreakable Vow." Hermione tried very hard not to look surprised at that. They had done no such thing. "So unless you'd like one of us to die, you'll leave the matter alone." Harry's eyes were positively electric. No one spoke. Professor McGonagall's face was very pinched. Mrs. Weasley had gone white. Remus was rubbing the bridge of his nose. Hermione and Ron exchanged a look.

George stood and clapped his hands together, a wide grin splitting his face, "Alright then. Now that's done, shall we inform the Chosen One of what's been going on since he's been gone? Who's got those maps?" Harry cast him a grateful look and sat down again. Hermione squeezed Harry's hand under the table, and he raised his eyebrows apologetically at her. His face said, 'Yes, I lied, I'm sorry.' Truthfully, she didn't mind, if it would get everyone off their backs about the mission, and just let them get on with it, well, then it was fine.

Maps were passed their way, and Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt proceeded to tell the group of recent Death Eater attacks and sightings of Lord Voldemort.

The meeting was called to a close some time later, but people trickled out slowly. Many of them stopped to talk to Harry. Most were of the opinion that he was right not to say anything, and everyone was glad they were safely back. Hermione left the group to sit on the couch by the large fireplace. She had spent many nights in the same spot during her summer at Grimmauld Place. She had found the house so eerie, as if the building itself hated her for being Muggleborn. That feeling had faded as time went by, and the Order and the Weasley's made their mark on the dark house, but the fire reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, and that had helped to keep the dark feelings away on nights when she felt particularly vulnerable. She was definitely feeling vulnerable now. She stared into the flames and tried to process all the information they had received tonight. The Death Eater's were gaining in confidence. Their attacks were daring, and vicious. This had to end, and soon.

"Butterbeer?"

George was standing next to her, holding out a bottle. She took it, grateful for his presence, and made room for him on the couch. He sat and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they sat quietly for a while. She wondered again how she could feel so comfortable with him. It felt so natural to be sitting with him like this.

"This reminds me of Gryffindor," he said, "The fire and all the people around."

"I miss it."

"Me too." He took a sip from his bottle and asked, "Will you go back when Hogwarts reopens?"

"I think so. I could probably do my NEWT's now, but… I don't know. Who knows how things will be when the war is over."

"Yeah," he said, and pulled her closer. She sank into him, wishing the melancholy feeling away. There was no use in wondering.

"Harry was lying about the Vow, wasn't he?"

"How did you know?"

"Because he'd never ask you two to do that. He wouldn't need to."

"No, he wouldn't."

"Plus, it's not a very Gryffindor thing to do."

She snorted, "No, but he was very _Slytherin_ tonight, wasn't he?"

"Bite your tongue, girl. That's our Chosen One you're talking about."

She laughed and kissed his cheek. The fire was nice, and he was warm and solid against her, and if there wasn't a war going on outside she could call this moment perfect.

"I'm glad you're safe," he said softly, kissing her temple, "I was so worried."

"So was I." She had lost count of the number of times she had nearly died in the last three months, but she hadn't forgotten the terror of those moments, or the exhausted relief that came after.

He tightened his arms around her, "You know that I… that I really care about you, right? I mean this isn't just messing about for me."

Her stomach swooped, and that skin buzzing feeling hit her full force. "It's not for me either."

"I want to be with you, Hermione." She turned slightly to look at him. He looked unsure, and completely vulnerable. "Is the thing with Ron… He hasn't tried to punch me, or anything, but—"

"We agreed that we're better as friends."

He frowned, "You two didn't—"

"George, I didn't think of anyone but you in the past three months. Nothing happened with Ron. Not ever."

"I know it's horrible, but I'm glad."

She smiled and tilted her face to meet his. They kissed softly, slowly, and she knew with absolute certainty that George was it for her. No more Quidditch players. Not even the _really_ good ones. She laughed against his mouth.

"What?" he asked, grinning too.

"I was just thinking about something Parvati told me once. She said that I must have a thing for Quidditch players."

George chuckled, "Made your way through all the positions yet? Krum was your seeker, I'm your beater…"

"Cormac McLaggen was my keeper."

"McLaggen? Really?" he made a disgusted face.

"Yes, it was a mistake, shush. But I've never kissed a chaser."

"Well, we'll get you drunk sometime and I'll dare you to kiss Angelina. How's that?"

Her eyes widened, but he cut off whatever remark she would have made with his lips.

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A/N: I hope you liked that last little bit. I made myself giggle, but who knows. It's nearly 6am and I haven't been to sleep yet. :) Yay insomnia!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling, I wouldn't be writing this. I'd be working on my next bestselling novel. Or, be still my heart, a compilation of all her Harry Potter notes. I'd _die_ to read those…

A/N: This picks up where the last chapter left off. All cozy on the couch. I'm sorry this took so long, especially when I promised it to you months ago, but I had a bit of a mental block with this story, and it was hard to knock it down. I'm still chipping away…

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Two empty bottles of butterbeer sat in Hermione's line of vision. She was firmly ensconced in George's arms, her back flush with his chest. His steady breathing made the hair at her temple flutter. She refused to move, because if she did then the spell would be broken and she would have to go back to the Burrow and he would have to go back to London, and the content perfection of this moment would be shattered. Although, she wouldn't turn down a kiss…

All hopes of that were dashed by a redheaded whirlwind that saw fit to throw himself into Hermione's lap.

She let out a surprised, "Eeep!" and George said, "Oi! Fred, get off her."

Fred only grinned devilishly and made himself comfortable. "Hello there, Hermione. Is my other half treating you well?"

"Yes," she said archly, "Unlike someone who looks remarkably like him."

"Well, I'm very happy you two managed to sort out whatever you had to sort out. George here has been a sodding wet blanket since you went missing. No fun at all. Stomping around the shop, scaring all the ickle kiddies. Scaring away _paying customers_, I might add."

"Oh, shut up, you prat."

Fred ignored him and carried on, "Took me forever to get him to fess up. Poor broken-hearted Georgie," Hermione felt George huff behind her, "Of course, when I found out what, nay, who was bothering him so, I took it upon myself to cheer him up, but nothing worked. Not even when I spiked his firewhiskey with our new giddy serum. No, I haven't seen my brother so much as smile until today when Mum flooed and said that you three were back. Do you know what he did after that, Hermione? He dropped everything he was doing, which was making a batch of acne vanisher. Just left it there over the fire. Do you know what it did? Melted the cauldron, and proceeded to eat straight through the floor. There's a great gaping hole in the workroom now. Terrible safety hazard."

Hermione glanced up at George who was grimacing, "Did it really?"

"Yeah. Thought we could reproduce the effect somehow. Might be useful for something."

"Hmm…" Hermione could practically feel the wheels turning in his head. She rolled her eyes.

"Lovely to have you back though, Hermione. Lovely to have my twin back as well."

"Thanks, Fred," she said.

"Sure. Just don't corrupt him with your rule-abiding ways. That's all I ask… although a ménage á trois wouldn't be disagreeable…"

Hermione shoved him, though she and George were laughing, and he fell roughly to the floor, knocking the butterbeer bottles over. Fred laughed and dusted himself off.

"On that note."

"Yes," said George, still smiling, "Get the hell out of here."

"Are you leaving too, Fred?" asked Harry, who along with Ron, had been drawn over by the commotion.

"Yes, I can see when I'm not wanted."

Harry took in Hermione and George's cozy arrangement and said, "I imagine none of us are wanted."

Ron made a face, and said, "I'm going home."

"Oi, Ron, wait a minute," said George, extracting himself from the couch and Hermione. He pulled Ron away from the others, and Hermione watched them anxiously.

Harry plopped himself down next to her. "You know, he's fine with the whole thing."

"He is?"

"Yeah. He reckons George is better than Viktor Krum… or Cormac McLaggen." Hermione shook her head in exasperation. Would she never live that down? It was nearly as embarrassing as the Lockhart debacle.

"What's this about McLaggen?" asked Fred curiously.

"Nothing!" she said, "It's nothing!"

Harry laughed, "That's not what it looked like to me."

Hermione glared, and Harry held his hands up in a gesture of submission.

George and Ron returned, shoving each other good-naturedly. Hermione sighed in relief. Neither of them were bruised or bleeding, so the conversation must have gone well.

"We should go back Ron," said Harry, "I told Ginny that I'd fill her in on everything."

"Going to violate our dear sister some more, Potter?" asked Fred, in a tone that was teasing and threatening at the same time.

"I do not _violate_ Ginny," he said indignantly, and then added with a smirk, "I do _whatever_ she tells me to do."

The boys groaned, and Hermione laughed.

"Ugh!" said Ron, "If you weren't my best mate I'd hit you."

"If he weren't the Chosen One I'd hold him down for you," added Fred.

"Well, at least something good has come from that," Harry replied, and tossed a handful of floo powder into the fire. The three boys chorused their goodbyes, and left one by one through the green flames: two to the Burrow and one to London.

"Everything okay?" Hermione asked George, whose gaze was fixed on the fire.

"Yeah, he said if I hurt you he'd _Avada_ me."

"Oh."

"No worries, love. I've no intention of hurting you," he grinned and gave her a quick kiss. "Personally, I'd have come up with a more unique threat."

Hermione stood and fisted her hands in his shirt, "Did you really miss me that much?"

George grinned and bit his lip. "My more annoying half may have been exaggerating a bit, but yes." He kissed her then, with the slow assurance of someone who knew there were many kisses to come, and she felt as if she was burning. "Don't tell anyone though. It's terrible for my image."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It appears that we're all alone," George murmured.

"It would appear so."

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was entirely empty. Hermione hadn't even noticed people leaving, though she vaguely recalled hearing Remus bid Harry and Ron goodnight.

"If you think that I'm going to snog you here, then you are sadly mistaken, Mr. Weasley."

"Why ever not, Miss Granger?"

"Because anyone could floo that fire over there, and I'd be highly embarrassed."

"Hm… well, there is somewhere else we can go."

"Where's that?"

"My flat."

"But Fred—"

"Is at Angelina's. He's there all the time, really."

Excuses were running out fast, though she wasn't sure why she was making them anyway. She _wanted_ to be alone with him.

"Come back to London with me," he prodded.

"Your mum is probably waiting up for me."

"Yeah, but she's not waiting up for _you_. She'd be waiting up to keep an eye on _my_ behavior."

"You must keep her up often."

"Yes, many sleepless nights for my poor mum. But seriously, come back to London with me." He kissed her, and her conscience fell silent, not that she wanted the pesky thing in the first place. He tugged her playfully over to the fire and poured a bit of powder into her hand before she could object properly.

Their flat was warm and inviting. She had been expecting something eye popping, but the motif was a cross between the Burrow and the Gryffindor common room. A large squashy couch and two matching chairs were covered in dark red velvet, shot through with gold threads. An oil painting hung above the fire, and two young lions were stalking prey in an exotic grassland. The lions exchanged a glance, and went in for the kill, and it seemed that their prey was a very frightened snake, which managed to slither away. Hermione's lips quirked at the obvious symbolism, and shook her head at George.

"You're really here," he murmured.

He pulled her along to the couch, and wrapped his arms round her waist before toppling them both to lie on it. Hermione laughed and settled into a more comfortable position on top of him.

"Now," he said in mock seriousness, "you'd best let me know now how far you're willing to let me go before you hex me. I want you very badly, and I'm liable to make an arse out of myself."

"Live dangerously, George," she teased, and kissed his neck.

Thirty minutes of fantastic snogging later, Hermione's shirt was completely unbuttoned and George's lips were kissing a trail between her breasts when the floo glowed green. Fred tumbled onto the rug, made a surprised noise, and promptly turned his back on them.

Hermione hurriedly pushed George away and frantically buttoned her shirt. Good lord, but they had the _worst_ luck!

"Terribly sorry, brother mine," Fred muttered.

George rubbed a hand over his face, and shot Fred's back a glare and an apologetic look to Hermione.

"You decent yet, Granger?"

"Yes, Fred, it's okay."

Fred turned back to them and sighed, "Sorry guys. Ange and I had a fight."

"What happened?" George asked.

Fred threw his hands up in exasperation and said, "I have no bloody idea." He stalked past them to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey. He viciously uncorked it and took a long swig. Hermione winced. Not good.

Hermione turned to George, who was looking at his twin with some concern, and said in an undertone, "I should go. I think Fred needs his brother right now."

"I need you right now."

She smiled softly at him, and said, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Okay," he said, kissing her lips lightly, "Goodnight, love."

Hermione flooed back to the Burrow, and eyed the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. She tiptoed to the stairs, praying to every god she knew of that Ginny had covered for her tonight. She was only two steps from safety when her hopes came crashing down on her ears.

"Hermione Jane Granger!" said a reproachful voice from behind her. Hermione winced. Mrs. Weasley had waited up for her! She could hear the speech now, _"You little vixen. Toying with the affections of not just one, but _two_ of my sons! How dare you? You scarlet woman!"_

Hermione turned slowly, "Mrs. Weasley, I—" But it wasn't Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny!"

Ginny giggled, and punched her playfully on the arm, "Where ya been?"

Hermione glowered, "That was a horrible thing to do to someone."

"Yeah, well, holding out on your friends is a horrible thing to do too. You've got to tell me everything. How long have you and George been having these clandestine meetings anyway?"

"It's not meant to be clandestine…" Hermione said, and Ginny fixed her with a glare, "Okay, fine. I've been wanting to tell you since it happened!"

Ginny laughed gaily, and pulled her into her bedroom. She settled down on her tiny twin bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. "Okay, tell me everything, minus the details that I definitely don't want to hear about my brother."

Hermione laughed, and said, "Okay, well…" and she launched into a highly edited version of the events, beginning with the night Bill and Fleur's wedding and ending just minutes ago.

Ginny was looking at her with a tiny smile on her face, "What?"

"It's just… I don't think George has ever been serious about a girl before."

"I've never really been serious about a boy before."

"Aside from Ron."

"But nothing ever came from that."

"True," Ginny conceded, "How is Ron dealing with all this anyway?"

"Harry says that he's fine with it. And George talked with him earlier, and Ron didn't hit him, so… I guess he's fine. We agreed that we were better off as friends. I suppose I should talk to him properly about it."

"I think he's fine too," Ginny said, "He was totally normal when he came home from the meeting."

Hermione sighed in relief. If Ron was acting normally, then there was probably nothing wrong. He had never been good at hiding his emotions, and Ginny would surely have noticed if something was wrong.

"I'm sorry I broke up your little snog session this afternoon," Ginny said. "I honestly had no idea that George was in there."

"I know you didn't," Hermione said, "What did he say to you when I left?"

Ginny grinned, "Oh, it was really cute, Hermione. I asked what the devil he was thinking, and he said, 'Darling sister of mine, keep your little nose out of it.'"

"Oh yeah, Gin, that's just adorable."

"No, no. And then I pressed him a bit, and he said that he was very much in _like_ with you."

Hermione smiled, "In like?"

"Yes, isn't that cute? And then I tapped his nose and left him alone."

Hermione could only nod. Obviously she had known that George liked her. _Obviously_. But it was very different and very nice to hear it coming from a third party. There was something official and necessary about it. Not to mention the approval of said boy's sister, and one's own best girl friend.

Ginny squealed a little and hugged Hermione tightly, "You have to marry him, Hermione. I need to have at least _one_ sister-in-law that I like."

"Slow down, Ginny! We've only started officially dating tonight!"

Ginny made a noise that sounded like, "psssht."

The girls continued onto a conversation about Ginny's renewed relationship with Harry. It was nearly three in the morning before Hermione fell, exhausted, into George's old bed.

Tonight had been a very near miss. Mrs. Weasley easily could have been the one to catch her coming back to the Burrow so late, and what then? Hermione grimaced in the dark, and remembered how Molly had treated her when she had believed those Witch Weekly articles about herself and Harry. Something had to be done. She was of age, for heaven's sake, and shouldn't feel like a fourth year sneaking out after curfew. Plans began to form in her mind, and she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

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A/N: Again, I'm sorry this took so long. I only have the vaguest ideas about where this story is going, so I hope you'll all bare with me while I figure it out.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Just so you know, this story will not comply in any possible way with Deathly Hallows. It's firmly AU after HBP, and I'm not going to change a thing. Also, I still have no clue what is going on here. I'm stumbling in the dark… though I think I may be inadvertently creating a sort of plot… strange how that happens.

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After breakfast Hermione flooed directly to the twins' flat to put her plan into motion. She found Fred passed out on the couch, a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey at his side. Poor Fred obviously wasn't used to fighting with Angelina. She hoped for his sake that they had a hangover potion handy. She peeked her head into George's room, but as she suspected, he wasn't there. She found him behind the till in the shop attempting to balance the books. Or at least she assumed that was what he was doing with a quill in one hand, and the other busy tearing out his hair.

"Morning!" she called cheerfully.

George started, and then smiled widely. "Morning, love," he said, dropping a kiss onto her cheek. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"I needed to talk to you about something."

He shut the book, and looked at her apprehensively. "Is it about us?"

"No, no!" Hermione reassured him. "Well, yes, I suppose it is. But nothing bad!"

His relieved smile said it all. "Okay then, what is it?"

"I was thinking about getting my own flat."

"You were?"

"Well," she said awkwardly, "there's really no where for me to be, really. I don't want to be at my parent's house in the Muggle world. Hogwarts isn't going to reopen. I feel like I'm imposing at the Burrow, and Harry has planned to move in with Professor Lupin at Grimmauld Place… there's nothing left for me to _do_." She hated the feeling of uselessness that had settled over her. No amount of book reading or spell casting would prepare any of them for the final battle, not any more than they already were. If there was one thing Hermione hated it was feeling useless, and this, hopefully, would serve the purpose of being helpful in the war effort and give her that freedom that she so longed for.

"You've earned a bit of a break, I think," he said, thumbs rubbing circles on her shoulders.

Here was the part she was least looking forward to. "But the thing is, that I don't have the money for rent. I have a little saved up, but it won't last long…"

"Ahhh…" he smiled as he caught on. "You want me to give you a job."

"I was hoping."

"Are you sure you want to work in a joke shop, Hermione?" he asked in teasing solemn tone. "After all, you'll be contributing to the delinquency of many Hogwarts students. All of them breaking countless rules… when the school reopens, anyhow."

She cast him a wry glance, and pushed back into her campaign. "I can work the till—"

"Verity works the till."

"I can stock the shop, or clean up after closing—"

"We've got charms that do that."

"I'm good at charms! I can help you and Fred spell products—"

"No," he said, his face serious. She felt a twinge of panic.

"George, please, I know you can use the help—"

"No," he said, "I think we'll need you in a more _active_ role." He locked his hands behind her waist and smirked.

She was instantly wary. "How active?"

"Product development. I want you to put your lovely, rule-abiding mind to creating new items that will help all the little kiddies at Hogwarts break them. I assume you know what the rules are."

She felt a wave of relief and giddiness. "Yes, I know what they are. I even helped put a few new ones on the books while I was there."

"I'm sure you did."

"I thought I could help with your defensive products too. I've got some ideas, and I'd really like to do something for the war effort."

George tipped his head to the side and smiled softly at her. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Victory was close at hand. There was just one thing— "Do you think Fred will go for it?"

"I know he will. We've talked about ways to convince you to come work for us after Hogwarts. Never thought we had a real chance though."

She grinned. "Really?"

"Now you're just fishing."

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. George Weasley, her knight in shining armor, armed with dung bombs. He kissed her deeply.

"Want to go flat hunting with me?"

"Are you sure you don't want to move in here?" he asked teasingly. "My bed is definitely big enough for two."

She just shook her head and smiled. The idea had merit, but at this point she wanted to give living alone a try.

George unearthed a recent edition of the Daily Prophet, and the two of them read the classifieds together, trying to suss out what exactly 'nicely appointed' meant in realtor speak.

With George's help, Hermione found a smallish studio in her price range (dirt cheap) with a nice view of Diagon Alley. And as if that wasn't enough, it was located above Flourish and Blotts. The bookstore owners themselves were letting it. When the elderly couple realized that it was _Hermione_ (one of their best customers) who wanted the flat, they immediately told her that it was hers, and that if she promised to get the twins to stop enchanting their awnings to flash different colors, she would get a thirty percent discount on any purchases she made while renting from them.

George protested, "Oh, but Mr. Blott! It's such an attention grabber!"

"This is a bookstore, Weasley, not a circus."

George looked unperturbed, and sighed theatrically.

"So, love," Mrs. Blott asked Hermione, "Where will you be working?"

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders in a, 'what are you gonna do?' gesture. She bit her lip and smiled winningly at the older woman, and hoped that the deal wasn't off.

"Oh, you poor dear. If they run you ragged with their jokes we could get you a part time position here."

Hermione laughed, while George looked slightly put out, and thanked Mrs. Blott.

George left Hermione to open up the shop, but not before they had hooked her flat up to the Floo Network, and heavily warded her new home. Hermione even went so far as to become her own secret keeper.

Hermione apparated over to her parent's house to have lunch, and explain her new living situation (much to her parent's chagrin, she _was_ an adult in the wizarding world), and to shrink down her bedroom furniture as well as an old sofa and a couple end tables that her parents no longer wanted. A few handy transfigurations later, and Hermione had her flat just the way she wanted. Bright white walls, with bright white furniture with accents of deep blues everywhere. She sat in the center of her (now queen sized) bed and looked around, feeling giddy and rather impressed with herself.

She spent nearly an hour looking out the windows down onto Diagon Alley, running her fingers lovingly over her pretty new things, and alphabetizing her books (by subject and author), until she couldn't rationalize doing it any longer. She would have plenty of time to enjoy her new space (which was all her own!) later, but now she had to explain her actions to Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Harry, and Ginny.

Back at the Burrow, Hermione cornered Ginny and told her what she'd done.

Ginny's mouth hung open for a moment after she'd finished, and she finally said, "My mum is going to kill you."

Hermione cringed.

"Well, not _kill_ kill, but she will positively drown you in guilt. She's still doing it to Harry, and he's moving in with Remus. At Headquarters."

"My flat is just as well protected as Headquarters."

"Fidelius Charm?" At Hermione's nod, Ginny whistled. "Impressive." Ginny cast Hermione a sly look and said, "Tell me the truth, Hermione. Moving into your own flat is just so you can shag my brother with impunity, right?"

"Ginny!"

"Oh, don't bother. Your face says it all."

Hermione blushed hard and aimed a pinch at Ginny's arm. She was knocked away and pulled into a hug. "I'm gonna miss having you here."

"You can visit all the time! I'll transfigure a bed for you!"

"When George isn't over anyway."

"Oh, stop."

"Come on," Ginny said, as she linked arms with Hermione, "let's go tell Ron and Harry the good news. I think they're in Ron's room."

Telling the boys went about as well as could be expected. Harry seemed thrilled, and somewhat anxious for her working in the joke shop. Ron had a twinge of jealousy, but covered nicely. Hermione gave them all the address and the name to call to access her floo.

"Don't say a word about you and George," Ginny warned Hermione, who was on her way downstairs to explain things to Mrs. Weasley. "She'll see right through you."

"I didn't do it for George!"

Ginny just raised an eyebrow, and poked Hermione in the back. Hermione shot a glare at her friend as she dropped her trunk near the fire. The noise brought Molly into the living room. Hermione swallowed, and braced herself for the worst.

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, with a worried glance at her trunk, "are you going somewhere?"

"Mrs. Weasley, I got my own flat today."

"What? But—"

"I just thought it was time to get my own place."

Mrs. Weasley's mouth was hanging open, and Ginny was right, because with just that look Hermione felt like she was sinking in guilt.

She rushed to get the words out, "I got a job working at the twins shop, so I can afford it. And it's above the bookshop. I've already warded it. I'm my own secret keeper, so it's completely safe. I've talked to my parents, and they're fine with it. I'll come round all the time, and… and…" Words failed her. Molly looked like she was going to cry.

"But, sweetheart, what will you _eat_? Can you cook? You're thin enough as it is."

"I… well…"

Mrs. Weasley brought her into a crushing hug. "It's alright, dear. You can come here for all the meals you like, and when you have some free time I'll teach you."

Hermione sighed gratefully, and hugged Molly back. She wasn't so much thrilled about the cooking lessons, but the threat of tears had passed. "Thank you Mrs. Weasley."

"Any time, dear." Molly pulled away, and brushed all remnants of tears away. "I daresay George will be happy to have you all to himself. I thought for a moment you had moved in with the twins."

An ice cube had fallen into Hermione's stomach. "Oh, I didn't—I'm not—"

Molly pierced her with a knowing stare. "Don't think I don't know where you were last night." Molly pointed to the family clock on the wall, and Hermione noticed with a horrified, yet warm fuzzy feeling, that she now had her own hand on the clock.

Hermione turned back to the scariest woman she knew, and said uselessly, "Oh, Mrs. Weasley, I—"

But Molly surprised her yet again and squeezed her arms. "I think you'll be good for him."

Hermione didn't know quite what to say, as the approval shining in Molly's eyes meant _everything_ to her.

"Now, don't you go telling George that I know," Molly said with a conspiratorial grin. "I'd like to make him sweat a bit."

She giggled a little, feeling like she'd run the gamut of emotions in just moments. Molly hugged her once more. "You go ahead and unpack your things, but come back for dinner!"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

A few moments later, Hermione sat on her sofa in a state of slight shock. There was no _way_ this had all gone as well as it had. It was just inconceivable. Molly had let her go without a fight at all, had given her blessing to Hermione's new relationship with George… Hermione then realized what a long day she'd had, but there was no time for a nap. If she put her head down she would miss dinner, and Hermione wasn't about to tempt Molly's good will.

Her fire glowed green and George stepped out, looking around her transformed flat with wide eyes.

"This looks fantastic!" he said. "You work fast."

"You wouldn't believe the day I've had," Hermione said.

George flopped down on the sofa beside her. "Come here and tell your boyfriend all about it."

Her _boyfriend_… Hermione smiled happily and leaned against him, wrapping her arm around his stomach. When she'd finished her tale, George said, "Wait, you are sure that you talked to _my_ mum? Not to some easy-going imposter?"

She laughed, "I'm just as surprised as you are. I was sure she would take my trunk and hide it from me, and then lock me up until I saw sense."

"That's exactly how I saw it going too, only with lots of yelling. There must be something wrong with her… I'll keep a close eye on her at dinner…"

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Molly's behavior had a lot to do with one of her 'wild' children getting a 'nice' girlfriend. She probably had visions of grandbabies clouding her eyes. Hermione shivered and hoped that wasn't the case.

At dinner that night, Arthur dropped what was to turn out to be a bombshell.

"Due to Hogwarts being closed this year, the Ministry has started an internship programme."

"What's that Dad?" Ron asked.

"Students who have completed their OWL's can apply for selection. You'd be working in whatever department that was chosen for you, following around Ministry employees, learning the ropes—"

"Fetching them coffee," Fred added.

"Who would want to do that?" Ron asked.

"You would Ron," Arthur smiled. "You've already been accepted."

"What? You put my name in?"

"You'll be working in the Department for Magical Transportation."

"But Dad, I don't want to do—"

"Of course you do. You're in the Order, and this is your new mission."

Ron looked absolutely bewildered, so Hermione said, "You'll be _spying_, Ron!"

"Spying?"

"Of course! As an intern you'll have access to just about everything, but everyone will overlook you! It's brilliant, really."

"Really, Dad?" Ron asked, a smile creeping over his face. "I'll be a spy?"

"Yes. You'll need to be on the lookout for any employees in your department who are acting strangely, as if they're under the Imperius curse, as well as any strange activity. Mad Eye is going to be sending you an owl with the particulars. They're likely to shunt you around a lot, so be sure that you pay close attention to everything, but of course don't be obvious about it."

"Course," Ron said, grinning widely now. "Ace. I'm a spy."

"Neville Longbottom has also been accepted, though I'm not sure in what department. I believe Luna Lovegood is doing it as well. And Hermione, I'm sorry, I tried to get your name in, but you can see that there's obviously someone controlling the selection process."

"What do you mean, Dad?"

"You, Neville, and Luna are all purebloods, Ron."

"Oh."

"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione. "I've already set up a job."

"Yep," Fred said smugly, "We've already got Granger, Dad. And the Ministry can't have her. She's going to make us a bundle."

George smiled fondly at her. Mrs. Weasley gave her son a raised eyebrow, which made George look at his mother in alarm. Hermione hid a smile behind her hand.

"Wait," Ginny said, putting on her best indignant-hurt face, "what about me? Why didn't you get me a job, Dad?"

"Absolutely not," said Mrs. Weasley.

"But Luna's doing it too! She's in my year!"

"If Luna's father thinks it's _sensible_," Molly made it very clear that she did not think it was anything close to sensible, "to allow his underage daughter to work as a spy in the Ministry then that is Mr. Lovegood's prerogative! Don't think that we'll be following the Lovegood's example!"

"But Mum, you know that I've been going crazy here doing nothing! I don't like sitting around and not helping! I have just as much right to help as anyone at this table!"

"It's too dangerous, Ginny! It's not safe at the Ministry right now. I won't allow you to be put in danger!"

"So what am I supposed to do, Mum? Just sit here cooped up in this house until the blasted war is over? That could be years! It's not like I'm any safer here! My clock hand is on 'Mortal Peril' too!"

"Ginny!"

Wheels turned quickly in Hermione's mind… what if… She looked at Fred and George, who were watching the argument with wide (and proud) eyes. She nudged George.

"What?" he hissed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, attempting to convey her message without drawing attention to herself. He shook his head, frowning. Hermione turned to Ginny and then back to George and then to Fred. George got it and shook his head vehemently. Hermione raised her eyebrows, a silent plea and a dare. He scowled at her, huffed, and kicked Fred under the table. A similar silent conversation passed between the twins, and one quiet game of rock, paper, scissors later—

"Mum," George said, with a quick glance at Hermione to say that she'd pay for this, "what if Ginny was to work at the shop?"

"What?" Molly's voice was dangerous.

Ginny had a look of wild hope on her face.

"The shop is safe as can be. No one can get in if they have the wrong intentions. No one can even get near the place if they're a Death Eater. She'd be safe there."

Mrs. Weasley glowered at her son, so Fred stepped in. "Mum, we'd keep her safe. And then she'd be able to help. You know she'd just get herself into trouble otherwise, if she went looking for it." Ginny was not pleased by that comment, but she wisely kept quiet.

"Oh, Mum, please."

Molly looked rather defeated and turned to her husband. "Arthur?"

"Well, the shop _is_ well protected, Molly."

"All right," Mrs. Weasley said. Ginny's face lit up. "But you are not to leave the shop! I don't want you wandering about Diagon Alley! It's the floo from here to there every day."

Ginny flew around the table and hugged her mother tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" And then she was wrapping her arms around each of the twins in turn. "Best brother's ever!" she proclaimed happily. Fred and George looked around the table smugly, as if the whole thing was their idea.

After dinner, Ginny told Hermione that she had a book to return to her, so the girls went up to Ginny's room.

"I know you did this, but I figured you wouldn't want Mum give you the evil eye, so—" and Ginny hugged her. "Thank you so much Hermione! If I haven't said it before, I'm so glad that you're dating my brother!"

"Don't thank me just yet," Hermione said with a sly smile. "Now you can be their new guinea pig."

"This is going to be brilliant!" Ginny said, brushing off the comment. "Oh, Merlin! I can't wait to get out of this house! What do you think I should wear to work?"

"Something comfortable, I imagine. You know we're going to have to wear those awful magenta robes."

"Oh, gods." Ginny looked like she might be reconsidering the whole thing. "Those clash horribly with my hair."

The two girls shared a look and started giggling.

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A/N: Reviews make me happy and get my muse to cooperate… so do it. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

A/N: I'm on a roll.

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Ginny was right about the magenta robes. They really did clash horribly with her hair, though her friend seemed to be in her natural element. Ginny was smiling and joking with each customer, happily ringing up their purchases, finding everything they asked for with ease, and even making appropriate suggestions for each prankster.

Hermione, on the other hand, was floundering.

The children seemed to know instinctively that she was a rule-abider, and to make matters worse, Hermione had little knowledge of the products she was supposed to be selling. Of course, she could identify a Canary Cream or a Skiving Snackbox with little difficulty. She even knew how to reverse the effects of most of the twin's wares, but Hermione's talents did not lie in pranking, or knowing how to carry out a good prank. She was great at flushing a prankster out, but helping the customers devise a perfectly executed prank using Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products… she failed miserably.

A boy who looked to be around thirteen years old asked her what she thought was the best way to get back at his little brother, who had turned his hair blue for an entire week.

"Oh, well," Hermione said, casting about for the appropriate answer. "We have Canary Creams."

The boy frowned at her, and said that Canary Creams were so last year.

Agitated by his attitude when she was just trying to help, for Merlin's sake, Hermione felt the need to explain herself, "Look, I only got detention _once_ at Hogwarts. And that was for being out after curfew!"

"You never pranked anybody? What kind of a witch are you?"

Hermione huffed. "The prefect kind!"

The boy looked at her, torn between disbelief and fear. "I think I'll ask that other girl what she thinks. Thanks anyway." He hastily weaved over to Ginny who smiled, listened to his question and responded with a face that clearly said, "Oh sure, we've got just what you're looking for!"

Hermione sighed miserably at the sight.

And it wasn't just the pranksters she failed with. When trying to sell a young girl on some of the items in the Wonder Witch line, the witch had raised her eyebrow at Hermione skeptically and said, "You don't even know _how_ to wear make-up, do you?"

To which Hermione had glared, slapped a Patented Daydream Charm into the girl's hand, and said, "Here. I've used this before. Works _great_." Then stalked to the back, and locked herself in the bathroom for ten minutes.

And that was just the morning.

Things only got worse from there, until George finally took pity on her (or, more likely, worried that she'd drive customers away) and put her behind the till to ring up purchases, and sent Verity to work on the floor.

During their lunch hour, they closed down the shop and owled out for sandwiches from the Leaky Cauldron. While the others ate in the back, George told Hermione to grab her sandwich and come with him into the shop. Hermione did what he asked, but dragged her feet. This was going horribly, and there was no way George hadn't noticed how awful she was.

"You're going to fire me, aren't you?"

"Why would I fire you?"

"Because I'm terrible at this! The kids hate me, and the older ones see right through me. I might as well be wearing my prefect badge and taking house points from them."

"Now, now," George chided gently. "You just don't have the right mindset yet. You're just thinking about how much trouble they're going to get into. Just turn it around and think about how you'd get away with it. I know you, love, and you've broken countless rules. You can do this, Hermione.

"It's our fault really. We just threw you into the deep end without training you up at all. I didn't even explain the system to you! No wonder you're so bad at this!"

"Okay, that's not helping."

"Sorry, love." He planted a kiss on her mouth, and led her slowly around the shop and explained their mysterious system. All of the prank items were organized in, what was to Hermione, a shockingly sophisticated manner. In the center of the shop was a large circular shelving structure, on top of which was a large bronze weasel with a mischievous look on its face. In one hand, the weasel held a dung bomb, while the other hand was behind its back hiding crossed fingers. On the shelves below the (slightly creepy, Hermione thought) weasel, was where the pranks for individuals were located. The products were arranged in order of intensity. The short-term pranks (such as the Snackboxes and Canary Creams) were grouped together, and as one walked around the dais, the pranks grew worse (or as George called it, more brilliant). The same system was repeated on the long shelf to the right, pranks for groups ("Such as the Slytherin Quidditch team," George explained.) And again on the shelves on the right hand wall, which was filled with items that had the ability to affect the entire school. Those were the big ticket items. Along the left hand wall the Wonder Witch items were located in all their pink glory, as well as a section of games, Muggle 'magic' tricks, and other miscellaneous products. It actually made sense to Hermione. At least now she would be able to direct customers to the correct part of the store.

Then George took her around again and pointed out their best sellers, which included the Canary Creams. _Oh, that bratty little kid was such a liar_, Hermione thought. He also grabbed a shopping bag and filled it with popular Wonder Witch products and then handed the bag to Hermione.

"What's all this?"

"Well, you can't very well talk up what you haven't used," he explained. "I doubt you'll ever use a Portable Swamp if I gave you one, but these you will. At least then you can explain the effects to the customers."

Hermione perused the little jars of make-up and potions, and wondered if Ginny would be up for helping her with them. Maybe they could have a girl's night at her new flat… it sounded like fun.

"I threw in a couple daydream charms as well," George said with a smirk. "I heard you say that you liked those."

She blushed and rolled her eyes.

He laughed and pulled her close for a kiss.

The afternoon went a bit better after that. A wary looking woman came trailing into the shop after her over-excited six year old, and Hermione was able to direct the child towards the mildest tricks she knew of. His mother realized what she was doing, and mouthed a grateful thank you over the child's head while he was delightedly waving around a toy wand, which shot out nothing more than gold confetti when waved in the right pattern. It was Hermione's first successful sale, and though Ginny laughed, Hermione was rather pleased with herself.

The shop closed at seven, and Verity flooed home as soon as Fred flipped the sign on the door. Ginny lingered as long as she could, but Mrs. Weasley eventually poked her head through the fire and ordered her to come home immediately.

"We open at ten," Fred told his sister. "Don't be late!"

"No worries, brother mine," Ginny said, and flooed away.

Fred eyed the fire and turned to George, "Did you see how she was flirting with all the customers today?"

"I know! I wanted to tell her to leave off, but those prats just kept buying more stuff."

"She wasn't flirting!" Hermione said. "She was being friendly."

"Well," George said sourly, "I'm rather glad you weren't being _friendly_. I'm a jealous bloke, you know."

Hermione didn't know how to respond to that, as she wasn't sure whether she should be offended for her own sake, Ginny's, or angry with George… though, for what she wasn't quite sure. So, she opted for the obvious.

"She was being nice! And helpful!" The twins weren't having it. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine. Be prats. I'm going home."

"Hermione, come on," George said. Fred turned to head up to their flat, and mumbled that he'd get the firewhiskey out.

"No. Ginny was great today, and she doesn't deserve you saying all that about her." Hermione shook her head. "This isn't even worth arguing about. I'll see you tomorrow."

George was wearing the same panicked look Ron wore when things were spiraling out of his control. She kissed his mouth lightly, and flooed to her flat. She threw her work clothes on the floor, including the god-awful magenta robes, and changed into a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. In the kitchen she realized that she hadn't yet gone to get groceries.

"Great," she muttered to herself. She pulled her jeans back on, grabbed the bag of Wonder Witch products, and flooed to the Burrow.

Ginny was eating her dinner alone at the table, and Hermione plopped down beside her.

"Long time no see," Ginny said.

"I haven't gone shopping."

Ginny summoned a plate from the kitchen, and Hermione served herself. Mrs. Weasley had made a mysterious looking casserole, but it turned out to be quite delicious.

"Ron has already gone up to bed," Ginny said. "Fetching coffee round the Ministry completely wore him out."

Hermione laughed and decided that she didn't feel sorry for Ron at all. There was nothing easy about working retail.

"So what's in the bag?" asked Ginny between bites.

"George gave me some Wonder Witch products to try out. Interested?"

Ginny grinned. "A night with my best friend pretending that we're the girliest of girls? Of course."

They trooped up to Ginny's room when they'd finished clearing up, and dumped the bag onto Ginny's bed.

"Merlin's pants," said Ginny. "He sure did give you a lot."

The violently pink packaging was making Hermione's eyes water and she had to look away. "All right," she said bravely, "let's try the make-up first, and then we can wash it off with the other stuff."

Fifteen minutes later, Ginny had blue eyelids, outrageously long lashes, and pink 'highly kissable' lips, and Hermione looked much the same. They were both clutching stitches in their sides.

"Blue eye shadow! What are they thinking?!" said Hermione.

"Your eyelashes have to be an inch and a half long!"

It wasn't as funny later when the gunk they'd put on their faces wouldn't wash off.

"Oh, gods," Hermione groaned, "we're going to look like this at work tomorrow!"

"I think Harry's upstairs, Hermione! I can't let him see me looking like a two sickle whore!"

When all of the scrubs and soaps in the bag failed to solve their problem, Hermione finally read the instructions on the packaging. "Oh, for Gods sake!"

"What? What is it?"

Hermione pointed her wand at Ginny's face and said, "_Finite_." The make-up disappeared. "It's all long wear make-up, charmed to never smudge. You have to charm it off."

"Oh." Ginny eyed the tube of lipstick appreciatively. "That's rather nice, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Hermione said grudgingly, turning her wand on her own face.

"Can I keep this?"

"Sure," Hermione shrugged. "It's not my color."

Ginny tossed the lipstick onto her dresser, and turned with her hands on her hips to face Hermione. "Okay, now spill."

"Spill what?"

"One, you've been acting like you and Ron just had a fight, and two, I fully expected you to be snogging my brother's brains out tonight. So what's going on?"

Ginny had always been hyper-perceptive, though this wasn't one of those times when Hermione appreciated it. "I argued with your brother's a bit before I left."

"Over?" Ginny asked leadingly.

Hermione scoffed a bit to let Ginny know that she thought the whole thing was ridiculous. "They were going on and on about how you were flirting with all the customers today, and I said that you were just being friendly and helpful. And things just went from there."

"Oh," Ginny said slowly. She bit her lip. "You know, Hermione, I was flirting a little."

"You were?"

"Well, just a little!" Ginny said defensively. "You know how boys are. A little smile and a giggle here and there… well, they'll buy just about anything."

"Ginny."

"It's not a big deal, Hermione. It's harmless, really. I mean, look at it this way, they're giving us something so we give a little back, and if it's just a smile and laughing at their masterful prank plans, so much the better."

"I don't—"

"Just give it a shot tomorrow. Just once. Just one little giggle."

Ginny sounded like she was plotting the downfall of Draco Malfoy, and was so deadly serious that Hermione had to laugh. "Sure, Gin."

"I'm serious!"

"I'm not."

"Okay, fine, but you'll change your tune and you won't even realize you're doing it."

"Oh, I'm so sure." Hermione tossed the Wonder Witch products back into the bag. "I'm going to go home now."

"I didn't make you angry, did I?"

"No, you've got a point… even if I completely disagree with you, it is harmless enough. Of course now I have to apologize to your brothers."

"Well, that I _am_ sorry for, but thank you for sticking up for me. Even though I didn't deserve it."

Ginny reapplied her lipstick and said, "Well, I think I'm going to go find Harry. We'll see if this stuff really is smudge-proof." She made a kissing noise, which really wasn't necessary, and smiled happily.

Hermione just laughed at her friend. "Goodnight, Ginny. Have fun."

"Night."

George was on sitting on her sofa when Hermione arrived at her flat. He eyed her apprehensively and didn't say a word.

Hermione dropped the bag and took a deep breath. "You and Fred were right. I was wrong. Your sister is a little flirt."

George struggled to hide a smile, and failed. "Well, I suppose I forgive you."

"Forgive me? I was just defending Ginny."

He could obviously feel that the ground he was treading on was very thin indeed, and said slowly, "Then I suppose I don't forgive you?"

She hugged him. "Thank you."

George let out a long, relieved breath. "You are the strangest girl."

Hermione curled up next to him, leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Sleep was going to be _glorious_ tonight. George combed his fingers through her hair. "So," he said, "was this our first fight?"

"Oh please," Hermione scoffed. "This was nothing."

"Nothing?" his voice broke.

Hermione, unconcerned, brought her mouth to his, and George forgot to be worried about the time when they would have a fight that was _something_.

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A/N: Review. Please.


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